It was my first day at a new job, and I walked in feeling nervous but excited. I’d ironed my shirt twice, skipped breakfast because my stomach was doing backflips, and even arrived fifteen minutes early. The building looked more intimidating in person than it had in the online photos, but I reminded myself I belonged here. New job, new city, clean slate.

As I stepped through the glass doors, I glanced around for someone official-looking. Near the front desk stood a tall guy in a button-up shirt, khakis, and a name badge. Before I could even ask, he looked up and said, “Marcus, right? No time for chit-chat. We’ve got a backlog in receiving. Follow me.”

My first thought was, “Wow, they really don’t waste time here.” My second thought should’ve been, “How the hell does this guy know who I am?” But in my anxiety-fogged brain, I just nodded and followed him through a maze of gray-walled corridors.

He led me to a corner cubicle stacked with paperwork and folders spilling over the sides. “Alright,” he said, pointing to a red tray. “Start by sorting these forms by vendor, then follow up with the ones marked urgent. Should keep you busy for a while.”

“Right,” I said, already sitting down and rolling up my sleeves. He walked off briskly, and I dove into the chaos.

I was maybe an hour in, head deep in documents, dialing vendors and pretending like I knew what I was doing, when my phone rang. It was the number from the main office.

“Hi, is this Marcus? This is Tara from HR. Just checking in—did you arrive okay for your first day?”

I frowned. “Yeah, I’ve been here about an hour. Brian gave me a bunch of stuff to handle in receiving.”

There was a long pause on the line. “Brian?” she repeated slowly. “Who’s Brian?”

“Tall guy, short dark hair, button-up shirt, badge. I think it said ‘Logistics.’ He said there was a backlog that needed sorting.”

Another pause. Then a light laugh, not unkind. “Marcus… you met Derek. He’s not your supervisor. He’s… well, he doesn’t really have the authority to assign tasks. He just likes to mess with new hires.”

I froze. “Wait, so I wasn’t supposed to be doing any of this?”

“No, hon,” she said gently. “Come back to the main office. Denise, your actual manager, has been waiting to meet you.”

My cheeks burned as I stood up and tried to pretend I hadn’t just wasted an hour of my life. I muttered something to the empty cubicle and made my way back, mentally kicking myself for being so gullible.

Denise was the polar opposite of Derek. Small, soft-spoken, and clearly exhausted, she greeted me with a warm smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Don’t worry about it,” she said after I explained what happened. “Derek thinks he’s the office comedian. You’re not the first he’s pulled that on. Probably not the last, either.”

I tried to laugh it off, but the sting stuck. No one likes to feel like a fool on day one.

Over the next few weeks, I tried to shake it off. I focused on learning the ropes, shadowing Denise, and keeping my head down. But Derek? He was everywhere. Always loud, always cracking jokes, always pawning off his work with some casual remark like, “Hey, the boss wants this wrapped up today,” or “This one’s a top priority from upstairs.”

And people just… did it. No one questioned him. Maybe because he spoke fast and walked faster. Maybe because he acted like he knew everything.

I started noticing the pattern. He never finished a full task. He never stayed late. He always had a reason someone else needed to pick up the slack. And the more I watched, the more irritated I got.

One morning, I saw him corner a new intern named Caleb, barely nineteen and nervous as a rabbit. Derek dropped a stack of inventory sheets in his lap and said, “Big boss wants these processed by noon. Think you can handle it, sport?”

Caleb nodded like a bobblehead. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t. Not yet.

A few days later, I caught him trying the same thing with a temp from accounting. I couldn’t believe no one had called him out. It was like he had everyone under a spell.

So I came up with a plan.

It wasn’t revenge. Not really. It was about fairness. And maybe a little payback for making me look like a fool that first day.

Friday rolled around, and Derek had clearly decided it was my turn again. He strolled by my desk, flashed a smirk, and said, “Hey Marcus, you mind handling the vendor invoices in the red tray? I’d do it, but I’m waiting on a call with distribution.”

I smiled sweetly. “Sure thing.”

He strutted off like he’d just nailed a three-pointer. I waited five minutes, then made my way to Denise’s office.

“Hey Denise, mind if I help Derek out? He mentioned he’s buried and I noticed his return files are kind of a mess. Thought I could tidy them up.”

She raised an eyebrow. “He asked you to do that?”

“Not exactly,” I said. “But I figured I’d take the initiative.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she nodded. “Alright. Just don’t let him offload all his junk on you.”

I smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I spent the rest of the day organizing Derek’s return backlog. I flagged every incomplete form. I printed clean versions of every sheet he should’ve processed months ago. I wrote his initials on each one, just like he did when pawning things off on others.

Then, I emailed every department head whose name appeared on those forms.

“Hello, I’ve helped organize the return documentation that Derek from Logistics requested assistance with. All files are labeled, signed, and dated. Let me know if you require anything further.”

Monday morning exploded like a firecracker.

The head of Warehouse stomped in first, waving a folder. “Who the hell processed these? Half of them are six months old. These should’ve been dealt with in Q2!”

Denise stepped out of her office, calm as ever. “Marcus, did you handle those?”

I stood up. “I did the filing. Derek said he needed help, so I finished processing the backlog under his initials.”

All eyes turned to Derek, who had conveniently walked in seconds before. He froze, holding his coffee cup mid-sip.

Denise tilted her head. “Derek, did you delegate those tasks to Marcus?”

“I… uh… not exactly. I may have suggested he… look at them…”

“Did you sign off on forms dated back to April?” the Warehouse head snapped.

“I mean, they were… just sitting there. I didn’t say submit them.”

Denise sighed. “I think it’s time we revisit our delegation policies. Derek, you and I will meet with HR this afternoon.”

Derek turned a lovely shade of tomato. “Seriously? This is all a misunderstanding.”

“Sure,” Denise said dryly. “You can explain it in writing.”

He got written up. Twice. And had to attend a refresher on proper communication and responsibility.

After that, Derek gave me a wide berth. He still acted smug, but the shine had worn off. I think he realized he couldn’t manipulate everyone anymore. Word got around. New hires started asking questions. And people who had quietly taken his abuse for months finally had a reason to push back.

Caleb, the intern, came up to me one day and said, “Thanks for what you did. I thought I was just being soft. I didn’t know that wasn’t normal.”

I clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re not soft. You’re decent. There’s a difference.”

Denise gave me more responsibilities over the next few months. At first, small things. Coordinating meetings. Handling onboarding files. Then training new hires. She said she liked the way I handled people—firm, but not heavy-handed.

One day, I found myself showing a new guy around the office. He looked just like me six months ago. Nervous, eager, trying not to mess anything up. I introduced him to everyone, including Derek, who now kept to his desk like a reformed gremlin.

As we passed the receiving cubicle, the new guy asked, “So… should I just start working on whatever I find?”

I laughed. “No, no. Trust me. Wait for Denise.”

He blinked. “Oh. Okay.”

I saw Derek glance over, heard him mutter, “Buzzkill,” under his breath.

I smiled.

Eventually, Derek left. Said he found a “better fit” at a startup downtown. Everyone signed his card. I didn’t write anything, but I did nod as he walked out. No hard feelings. Just relief.

A week later, Denise called me into her office.

“How would you feel about stepping into a lead coordinator role?” she asked. “You’ve basically been doing half of it already.”

I accepted. Not because I wanted authority. But because I wanted to make sure no one else got played like I did. Or Caleb. Or the dozens before us.

Here’s the thing about office politics:

People think you need to be loud to lead. That you need to be cutthroat to climb. But real influence? It comes from earning respect. From keeping your word. From being the one who listens when others don’t.

Kindness isn’t weakness. It’s strategy. It’s strength wrapped in patience.

And sometimes, the best way to change a place is simply by refusing to play along with the nonsense.

If you’ve ever been the new guy, or been blindsided by someone like Derek, share this story. Like it. Let someone else out there know they’re not alone—and they’re not powerless either.